Walled in – more notes on getting rid of things

In 1846, Edgar Allan Poe penned what is probably one of his best known, and possible most horrifying short stories. 

“The Cask of Amontillado” tells the tale of a man seeking revenge from a so-called insult delivered by a friend. The murderer, Montressor, lures his victim, Fortunato, into the family vault on the false pretenses of authenticating a cask of expensive wine being stored in the wine cellar near the underground tomb.

After getting him sufficiently inebriated, Montressor lures his target into a chamber, chains him to the wall and seals the poor man among the dead. As the brick and mortar are put in place, the unfortunate Fortunato sobers up and realizes what is happening, but it is too late, his fate is literally and figuratively sealed. 

With October and Halloween time right around the corner it’s the perfect time to read the story if you never have or browse it again if it has been since high school required reading since you thought about Edgar Allan Poe. 

The story came to mind recently as I was walking through the rooms of my home. I’ve lived in my current house for almost 10 years now. It is the longest I’ve ever stayed in one place. Though I’m quite content in putting down firm roots in the place I was born and raised, what I’m not thrilled about is the number of things that have been accumulated in that time. 

It seems that every cabinet, drawer and closet is stuffed to the hilt with items to the point that I don’t know what is in there and if I’m looking for something, I surely can’t find it. And I’m not alone in this plight. Some research suggests that the average American household contains about 300,000 items, from pens and scraps of paper to antique furniture. About 10 percent of people rent additional storage for things they can’t fit in their homes but don’t want to part with. Additionally, people spend an average of 12 full days’ worth of time throughout the year looking for things they can’t find. 

That equates to a lot of effort, time and money wasted.  As it were, I’m feeling a little walled in. 

I don’t know if I have 300,000 things in the house. That estimation seems high, even by hoarder standards. I’m certainly not going to go room to room and start counting, but I’m certain I’m living with things that I could do without.  

Thus, I have begun a much-needed purging of material objects. A bit of fall cleaning if you will. Such a task is a family affair and there’s no better place to start than the kids’ rooms. Several bags of trash have already been removed and a pile of things to be donated is building in the garage, but, to quote more American literature, I have “miles to go before I sleep.” 

Unlike the ill-fated Fortunato, I can remove my prison one item at a time. 

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